Palm reading
by GreatMarta
Summary: A little insight into Spitelout's relationship with Snotlout's Bog-Burglar mother. [repost from AO3] [part of "Hiccup at large" series, but can be read independently]


AN: Bloodybee is my OC and a Bog Burglar. I introduced her in the story "Gift of a Mother". For those of you who haven't read it – she and Spitelout had a mating agreement, which resulted in the birth of Snotlout and his sister Avalanche. Inspired by the fact that Snotlout has a litte sister in the books.

To Spitelout, tracking was a game of Hare and Houds – or, in his interpretation, a Hound and Hares. Every creature, wanting or not, left a trace of itself in the surroundings. Some clues were obvious, some required a keen eye. To identify an animal based on its tracks and dung was a child's play. To determine the size, origin and combat skills of an enemy group based on the subtle clues they left behind was a tough job, but it only made the game that much interesting. And Spitelout was always eager to find out if his opponent's skills at misleading were more advanced than his skills in tracking.

He applied the same methodology to his interactions with humans. It went without saying that all Vikings valued a strong gaze and a confident stance, and practiced the art of insulting each other from early on. A true Viking was tough, showed no fear, nor doubt, and had the endurance of a rock. Still, as wonderful as Vikings were, they were still humans, and could not control their bodily reactions entirely. The undesired emotions would still show, however insignificantly. In a twitch of an eye, clenching of a fist, shuffling of a foot or widening of nose trills – no humane ever could control, or even know the whole spectrum of his reactions. But it was amusing to see them try.

Bloodybee was quite proficient in fooling people, this much Spitelout had to acknowledge. The woman was a true Viking – full of herself, laughing in the face of danger, acting as if she owned the world. He expected no less from a Bog Burglar captain. He has by now learned that her pulse didn't speed up when she lied, and was capable of cracking a smile even amidst giving birth. If he wanted to know what she really felt, her expressions would not tell him much. Her hands, however, revealed everything. Whenever Bloodybee was hurt, nervous or worried, her good hand would inevitably seek the crippled hand.

It made sense, of course. All amputees experienced pain in their missing limbs to some extent. Bloodybee was lucky in that she lost fingers, not an entire hand, and has since learned to cope with the disability, but it still hurt at times. And when it did, she just had to touch the stumps. Spitelout wasn't sure to what extend she tried to stop herself – if she ever tried – but that was one battle she just couldn't win. And he never failed to spot it.

Now was one of those times. They were in his house, cleaning their respective gear after a whole day of hiking, hunting and sword fighting, commenting each other's performance, mixing praise with a healthy dose of mean remarks. Bloodybee sat casually at the hearth, claiming she just loved to feel her fat burning and muscles growing. Spitelout agreed that one felt most alive when everything inside was moving. He proposed they could spice things up a bit and carry out their next escapade in the night. She smirked, sent him a gaze full of confidence, and – at exactly this moment – started to massage one of her stumps.

Spitelout understood. She has had enough entertainment for today and didn't feel like going out again – especially since the weather was worsening. But she couldn't tell him that – and he'd be disappointed in her if she did. Rest was for the weak.

Normally, Spitelout would take advantage of the weakness he spotted in his opponent. Mother of his children or not, Bloodybee was first and foremost a Bog Burglar. He was expected to regard her as a rival, to make it clear to everybody that he was the dominating party in their relationship. If he could strengthen his own position by humiliating her, then, by all means, he should do just that.

Still, there were times when one had to be a Viking, and times when one had to be a man. Tonight was definitely the latter.

"What's the matter, Bibi?" Spitelout teased his comrade. "Are you in pain?"

She replied with a shy, almost gentle smile. "In this kind of weather? Always."

There was no malice in her tone, no bitterness. She didn't mean to defend herself, didn't even see the need to defend herself. She was merely stating a fact. A fact that did not influence her capacity to kick his butt, that did not interfere with any of her skills. Bloodybee felt confident in her own skin, so confident she would not be troubled by her opponent exposing her secrets.

Though it may also have been because she trusted Spitelout. If that was the case, he would not disappoint her.

He took her crippled hand and kissed each stump tenderly. Traced the thickened bone heads, the stiffened joints. Then took the hand in both his and massaged it until the muscles relaxed. He could tell she was pleasantly surprised, that his actions brought her relief. It made him feel good.

"How you're feeling now?" he asked, eager for praise.

This time her smile was sincere. "Much better. Thank you."

Spitelout could congratulate himself on the achievement. He has just managed to establish his dominance. To get his opponent to surrender and hand him the reins. Bloodybee made no attempt to appear tough. The expression she wore was that of gentleness, of subtle delight. Of a woman grateful to have a man by her side.

He took pride in being the only man she was willing to be submissive to. And cherished her as the only woman who could tickle his ego without crushing hers. For her he could be a benevolent ruler, a hero, a loyal guard. And he knew he would never abuse this power, because she would not allow him. Whatever power he had over her he had only as long as he respected her. Their romance was founded on Viking values and they wouldn't want it any other way.

Satisfied with the knowledge, Spitelout took the steering wheel Bloodybee so kindly offered to him. And placed a passionate kiss on her lips, which she gladly accepted. The way the flowers turn to the sun she turned to him.

She would not be disappointed.


End file.
